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* 


[FORCE COLLECTION,] £ 

3" y. i $ | 

-■ # 

UNITED STATES UE AMERICA, i 















DELIVERED JANUARY 25, 183 5, 


WILLIAM E. CHANNINGr. 


PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY HOMER AND PALMER, 
34, Congress Street. 





















A 


SERMON ON WAR, 


DELIVERED JANUARY 25, 1835, 


BY 



WILLIAM E CHANNING. 


PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 



V 






UO; h , 




BOSTON: 

HOMER Sc PALMER, PRINTERS, 
34, Congress Street. 









1835. 

L3 










Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1835, by HOMER & PALMER, in the 
Clerk’s office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 




James, iv. 1. Whence come wars and fightings among you? 


I ask your attention to the subject of public war. 

I am aware, that to some this topic may seem to 
have political bearings, which render it unfit for the 
pulpit; but to me it is eminently a moral and reli¬ 
gious subject. In approaching it, political parties 
and interests vanish from my mind. They are for¬ 
gotten amidst the numerous miseries and crimes of 
war. To bring war to an end was one of the pur¬ 
poses of Christ, and his ministers are bound to 
concur with him in the work. The great difficulty 
on the present occasion is, to select some point of 
view from the vast field which opens before us. 
After some general remarks, I shall confine myself 
to a single topic, which at present demands peculiar 
attention. 

Public war is not an evil, which stands alone or 
has nothing in common with other evils. It be¬ 
longs, as the text intimates, to a great family. It 
may be said, that society, through its whole extent, 
is deformed by war. Even in families we see 
jarring interests and passions, invasions of rights, 
resistance of authority, violence, force; and in com¬ 
mon life, how continually do we see men struggling 
with one another for property or distinction, injuring 
one another in word or deed, exasperated against 
one another by jealousies, neglects and mutual re¬ 
proach. All this is essentially war, but war re- 



4 


t 

strained, hemmed in, disarmed by the opinions and 
institutions of society. To limit its ravages, to 
guard reputation, property and life, society has in¬ 
stituted government, erected the tribunal of justice, 
clothed the legislator with the power of enacting 
equal laws, put the sword into the hand of the 
magistrate, and pledged its whole force to his sup¬ 
port. Human wisdom has been manifested in 
nothing more conspicuously, than in civil institutions 
for repressing war, retaliation, and passionate resort 
to force among the citizens of the same state. But 
here it has stopped. Government, which is ever at 
work to restrain the citizen at home, often lets him 
loose and arms him with fire and sword against other 
communities, sends out hosts for desolation and 
slaughter, and concentrates the whole energies of a 
people in the work of spreading misery and death. 
Government, the peace officer at home, breathes 
war abroad, organizes it into a science, reduces it 
to a system, makes it a trade, and applauds it as if 
it were the most honourable work of nations. 
Strange that the wisdom, which has so successfully 
put down the wars of individuals, has never been in¬ 
spired and emboldened to engage in the task of 
bringing to an end the more gigantic crimes and 
miseries of public war. But this universal pacifi¬ 
cation, until of late, has hardly been thought of, and 
in reading history we are almost tempted to believe, 
that the chief end of government, in promoting in¬ 
ternal quiet, has been to accumulate greater re¬ 
sources for foreign hostilities. Blood-shed is the 
staple of history, and men have been butchered and 




5 


countries ravaged, as if the human frame had been 
constructed with such exquisite skill only to he 
mangled, and the earth covered with fertility only to 
attract the spoiler. 

These reflections however it is not my intention 
to pursue. The miseries of war are not my present 
subject. One remark will be sufficient to place 
them in their true light. What gives these miseries 
pre-eminence among human woes, what should 
compel us to look on them with peculiar horror, is 
not their awful amount, but their origin, their 
source. They are miseries inflicted by man on man. 
They spring from depravity of will. They bear the 
impress of cruelty, of hardness of heart. The dis¬ 
torted features, writhing frames, and shrieks of the 
wounded and dying, these are not the chief horrors 
of war. They sink into unimportance compared 
with the infernal passions which work this woe. 
Death is a light evil when not joined with crime. 
Had the countless millions, destroyed by war, been 
swallowed up by floods or yawning earthquakes, we 
should look back awe-struck, but submissive, on the 
mysterious providence, which had thus fulfilled the 
mortal sentence originally passed on the human race. 
But that man, born of woman, bound by ties of 
brotherhood to man, and commanded by an inward 
law and the voice of God to love and do good, 
should through selfishness, pride, revenge, inflict 
these agonies, shed these torrents of human blood, 
here is an evil which combines with exquisite suffer¬ 
ing fiendish guilt. All other evils fade before it. 

Such are the dark features of war. I have 


6 


spoken of them strongly, because humanity and re¬ 
ligion demand from us all a new and sterner tone 
on this master evil. But it is due to human nature 
to observe, that whilst war is, in the main, the offspring 
and riot of the worst passions, better principles 
often mix with it and throw a veil over its de¬ 
formity. Nations fight not merely for revenge 
or booty. Glory is often the stirring word; and 
glory, though often misinterpreted and madly pur¬ 
sued by crime, is still an impulse of great minds, 
and shows a nature made to burn with high thoughts 
and to pour itself forth in noble deeds. Many have 
girded themselves for battle from pure motives; 
and, as if to teach us that unmingled evil cannot 
exist in God's creation, the most ferocious conflicts 
have been brightened by examples of magnanimous 
and patriotic virtue. In almost .all wars there is 
some infusion of enthusiasm, and in all enthusiasm 
there is a generous element. 

Still war is made up essentially of crime and misery, 
and to abolish it is one great purpose of Christianity, 
and should be the earnest labour of philanthropy; 
nor is this enterprise to be scoffed at as hopeless. 
The tendencies of civilization are decidedly towards 
peace. The influences of progressive knowledge, 
refinement, arts, and national wealth are pacific. 
The old motives for war are losing power. Con¬ 
quest, which once maddened nations, hardly enters 
now into the calculation of statesmen. The disas¬ 
trous and disgraceful termination of the last career 
of conquest, which the world has known, is reading 
a lesson not soon to be forgotten. It is now 


7 


thoroughly understood, that the development of a 
nation’s resources in peace is the only road to pros¬ 
perity; that even successful war makes a people 
poor, crushing them with taxes and crippling their 
progress in industry and useful arts. We have 
another pacific influence at the present moment in 
the increasing intelligence of the middle and poorer 
classes of society, who, in proportion as they 
learn their interests and rights, are unwilling to be 
used as materials of war, to suffer and bleed in 
serving the passions and glory of a privileged few. 
Again, science, commerce, religion, foreign travel, 
new facilities of intercourse, new exchanges of 
literature, new friendships, new interests are over¬ 
coming the old antipathies of nations, and are silent¬ 
ly spreading the sentiment of human brotherhood 
and the conviction that the welfare of each is the 
happiness of all. Once more, public opinion is con¬ 
tinually gaining strength in the civilized and Chris¬ 
tian world, and to this tribunal all states must in a 
measure bow. Here are pacific influences. Here are 
encouragements to labour in the cause of peace. 

At the present day one of the chief incitements 
to war is to be found in false ideas of Honor. Mili¬ 
tary prowess and military success are thought to 
shed peculiar glory on a people; and many, who are 
too wise to be intoxicated with these childish delu¬ 
sions, still imagine, that the honor of a nation con¬ 
sists peculiarly in the spirit which repels injury, in 
sensibility to wrongs, and is therefore peculiarly com¬ 
mitted to the keeping of the sword. These opinions 
I shall now examine, beginning with the glory at¬ 
tached to military achievements. 


8 




That the idea of Glory should be associated 
strongly with military exploits ought not to be 
wondered at. From the earliest ages ambitious 
sovereigns and states have sought to spread the 
military spirit by loading it with rewards. Badges, 
ornaments, distinctions, the most flattering and in¬ 
toxicating, have been the prizes of war. The aris¬ 
tocracy of Europe, which commenced in barbarous 
ages, was founded on military talent and success; 
and the chief education of the young noble was for 
a long time little more than a training for battle. 
Hence the strong connexion between war and honor. 
All past ages have bequeathed us this prejudice, and 
the structure of society has given it a fearful force. 
Let us consider it with some particularity. 

The idea of Honor is associated with war. But 
to whom does the honor belong ? If to any, cer¬ 
tainly not to the mass of the people, but to those 
who are particularly engaged in it. The mass of 
a people, who stay at home and hire others to fight, 
who sleep in their warm beds and hire others to 
sleep on the cold and damp earth, who sit at their 
well spread board and hire others to take the chance 
of starving, who nurse the slightest hurt in their 
own bodies and hire others to expose themselves to 
mortal wounds and to linger in comfortless hospitals, 
certainly this mass reap little honor from war. The 
honor belongs to those immediately engaged in it. 
Let me ask then what is the chief business of war. 
It is to destroy human life, to mangle the limbs, to 
gash and hew the body, to plunge the sword into 
the heart of a fellow creature, to strew the earth 


9 


with bleeding frames, and to trample them under 
foot with horses hoofs. It is to batter down and 
burn cities, to turn fruitful fields into deserts, to 
level the cottage of the peasant and the magnifi¬ 
cent abode of opulence, to scourge nations with 
famine, to multiply widows and orphans. Are 
these honorable deeds ? Were you called to name 
exploits worthy of demons, would you not naturally 
select such as these? Grant that a necessity for 
them may exist; it is a dreadful necessity, such as 
a, good man must recoil from with instinctive horror; 
and though it may exempt them from guilt, it cannot 
turn them into glory. We have thought, that it was 
honorable to heal, to save, to mitigate pain, to 
snatch the sick and sinking from the jaws of death. 
We have placed among the revered benefactors of 
the human race, the discoverers of arts which alle¬ 
viate human sufferings, which prolong, comfort, 
adorn and cheer human life, and if these arts be 
honorable, where is the glory of multiplying and ag¬ 
gravating tortures and death? 

It will be replied, that the honorableness of war 
consists not in the business which it performs, but 
in the motives from which it springs, and in the 
qualities which it indicates. It will be asked, Is it 
not honorable to serve one’s country and to expose 
one’s life in its cause? Yes, our country deserves 
love and service, and let her faithful friends, her 
loyal sons, who, under the guidance of duty and dis¬ 
interested zeal, have poured out their blood in 
her cause, live in the hearts of a grateful pos¬ 
terity. But who does not know, that this moral 
2 


I 


10 


heroism is a very different thing from the common 
military spirit ? Who is so simple as to believe, that 
this all-sacrificing patriotism of principle is the mo¬ 
tive which fills the ranks of war, and leads men to 
adopt the profession of arms ? Does this sentiment 
reign in the common soldier, who enlists because 
driven from all other modes of support, and hires 
himself to be shot at for a few cents a day. Or 
does it reign in the officer, who, for pay and promo¬ 
tion, from the sense of reputation or dread of dis¬ 
grace, meets the foe with a fearless front. There is 
indeed a vulgar patriotism nourished by war; I 
mean that, which burns to humble other nations and 
to purchase for our own the exultation of triumph 
and superior force. But as for true patriotism, 
which has its root in benevolence, and which desires 
the real and enduring happiness of our country, 
nothing is more adverse to it than war, and no class 
of men have less of it than those engaged in war. 
Perhaps in no class is the passion for display and 
distinction so strong; and in accordance with this 
infirmity, they are apt to regard as the highest inter¬ 
est of the state, a career of conquest, which makes 
a show and dazzles the multitude, however deso¬ 
lating or unjust in regard to foreign nations, or how¬ 
ever blighting to the prosperity of their own. 

The motives, which generally lead to the choice 
of military life, strip it of all claim to peculiar honor. 
There are employments, which from their peculiar 
character should be undertaken only from high mo¬ 
tives. This is peculiarly the case with the profes¬ 
sion of arms. Its work is bloodshed, destruction. 


11 


the infliction of the most dreaded evils not only on 
wrong-doers oppressors, usurpers, b ut on the innocent, 
weak, defenceless. From this task humanity re¬ 
coils, and nothing should reconcile us to it but the 
solemn conviction of duty to God, to our country, 
to mankind. The man, who undertakes this work 
solely or chiefly to earn money or an epaulette, 
commits, however unconsciously, a great wrong. 
Let it be conceded, that he who engages in military 
life is bound, as in other professions, to ensure from 
his employers the means of support, and that he 
may innocently seek the honor which is awarded to 
faithful and successful service. Still from the pe¬ 
culiar character of the profession, from the solem¬ 
nity and terribleness of its agency, no man can en¬ 
gage in it innocently or honorably, who does not de¬ 
plore its necessity, and does not adopt it from 
generous motives, from the power of moral and 
public considerations. That these are not the mo¬ 
tives which now fill armies is too notorious to need 
proof. How common is it for military men to desire 
war, as giving rich prizes and as advancing them in 
their profession ? They are willing to slaughter their 
fellow creatures for money and distinction; and is the 
profession of such men peculiarly glorious ? I am 
not prepared to deny, that human life may sometimes 
be justly taken ; but it ought to be taken under the 
solemn conviction of duty and for great public ends. 
To destroy our fellow creatures for profit or promo¬ 
tion, is to incur a guilt from which most men would 
shrink, could it be brought distinctly before their 
minds. That there may be soldiers of principle, 


i 


12 


men who abhor the thought of shedding human 
blood, and who consent to the painful office only 
because it seems to them imposed by their country and 
the best interests of mankind, is freely granted. Such 
men spring up especially in periods of revolution 
when the liberties of a nation are at stake. But 
that this is not the spirit of the military profession, 
you know. That men generally enter this profession 
from selfish motives, that they hire themselves to 
kill for personal remuneration, you know. That they 
are ready to slay a fellow creature from inducements 
not a whit more disinterested than those, which lead 
other men to fell an ox or crush a pernicious insect, 
you know; and of consequence the profession has 
no peculiar title to respect. It is particularly de¬ 
graded by the offer of prize money. The power of 
this inducement is well understood. But is it hon¬ 
orable to kill a fellow creature for a share of his 
spoils? A nation, which offers prize money, is 
chargeable with the crime of tainting the mind of 
the soldier. It offers him a demoralizing motive 
to the destruction of his fellow creatures. It saps 
high principle in the minds of those who are sus¬ 
ceptible of generous impulses. It establishes the 
most inhuman method of getting rich which civilized 
men can pursue. I know that society views this 
subject differently, and more guilt should be attached 
to society than to the soldier; but still the charac¬ 
ter of the profession remains degraded by the mo¬ 
tives which most commonly actuate its members; 
and war as now carried on is certainly among the 
last vocations to be called honorable. 


13 


Let not these remarks be misconstrued. I mean 
not to deny to military men equal virtue with other 
classes of society. All classes are alike culpable in 
regard to war, and the burden presses too heavily 
on all, to allow any to take up reproaches against 
others. Society has not only established and exalted 
the military profession, but studiously allures men into 
it by bribes of vanity, cupidity and ambition. They 
who adopt it have on their side the suffrage of past ages, 
the sanction of opinion and law, and the applauding 
voice of nations, so that justice commands us to ac¬ 
quit them of peculiar deviations from duty, or of fall¬ 
ing below society in moral worth or private virtue. 

Much of the glare thrown over the military pro¬ 
fession is to be ascribed to the false estimate of 
Courage, which prevails through the Christian world. 
Men are dazzled by this quality. On no point is 
popular opinion more preverted and more hostile to 
Christianity, and to this point I would therefore so¬ 
licit particular attention. The truth is, that the de¬ 
lusion on this subject has come down to us from 
remote ages, and has been from the beginning a 
chief element of the European character. Our 
Northern ancestors, who overwhelmed the Roman 
empire, were fanatical to the last degree in respect 
to military courage. They made it the first of vir¬ 
tues. One of the chief articles of their creed was, 
that a man, dying on the field of battle, was trans¬ 
ported at once to the hall of their God Odin, a ter¬ 
rible paradise, where he was to quaff forever delicious 
draughts from the skulls of his enemies. So rooted 


J 


14 

was this fanaticism, that it was thought a calamity 
to die of disease or age; and death by violence, 
even if inflicted by their own hands, was thought 
more honorable than to expire by the slow, inglo¬ 
rious processes of nature. This spirit, aided by 
other causes, broke out at length into chivalry, the 
strangest mixture of good and evil, of mercy and 
cruelty, of insanity and generous sentiment, to be 
found in human history. This whole institution 
breathed an extravagant estimation of courage. To 
be without fear was the first attribute of a good 
knight. Danger was thirsted for, when it might in¬ 
nocently be shunned. Life was sported with wan¬ 
tonly. Amusements full of peril, exposing even to 
mortal wounds, were pursued with passionate eager¬ 
ness. The path to honor lay through rash adven¬ 
tures, the chief merit of which was the scorn of 
suffering and of death which they expressed. This 
fanaticism has yielded in a measure to good sense 
and still more to the spirit of Christianity. But 
still it is rife; and not a few imagine fearless cour¬ 
age to be the height of glory. 

That courage is of no worth, I have no disposition 
to affirm. It ought to be prized, sought, cherished. 
Though not of itself virtuous, it is an important aid 
to virtue. It gives us the command of our facul¬ 
ties when needed most. It converts the • dangers 
which palsy the weak into springs of energy. Its 
firm look often awes the injurious and silences in¬ 
sult. All great enterprizes demand it, and without 
it virtue cannot rise into magnanimity. Whilst it 
leaves us exposed to many vices, it saves us from 


15 


one class peculiarly ignominious, from the servility, 
deceit, and base compliance, which belong to fear. 
It is accompanied too with an animated conscious¬ 
ness of power, which is one of the high enjoyments 

of life. We are bound to cherish it as the safe- 

# 

guard of happiness and rectitude, and when so 
cherished it takes rank among the virtues. 

Still courage, considered in itself, or without re¬ 
ference to its origin and motives, and regarded in its 
common manifestations, is not virtue, is not moral 
excellence ; and the disposition to exalt it above the 
spirit of Christianity is one of the most ruinous de¬ 
lusions, which have been transmitted to us from bar¬ 
barous times. In most men, courage has its origin 
in a happy organization of the body. It belongs to 
the nerves rather than to the character. In some, 
it is an instinct bordering on rashness. In one man, 
it springs from strong passions obscuring the idea of 
danger. In another, from the want of imagination 
or from the incapacity of bringing future evils near. 
The courage of the uneducated may often be traced 
to stupidity, to the absence of thought and sensibil¬ 
ity. Many are courageous from the dread of the 
infamy absurdly attached to cowardice. One terror 
expels another. A bullet is less formidable than a 
sneer. To shew the moral worthlessness of mere 
courage, of contempt of bodily suffering and pain, 
one consideration is sufficient. The most abandon¬ 
ed have possessed it in perfection. The villain often 
hardens into the thorough hero, if courage and he¬ 
roism be one. The more complete his success in 
searing conscience and defying God, the more 


16 


dauntless his daring. Long continued vice and ex¬ 
posure naturally generate contempt of life and a 
reckless encounter of peril. Courage, considered 
in itself or without reference to its causes, is no 
virtue and deserves no esteem. It is found in the 
best and the worst, and is to be judged according 
to the qualities from which it springs and with which 
it is conjoined. There is in truth a virtuous, glori¬ 
ous courage; but it happens to be found least in 
those who are most admired for bravery. It is the 
courage of principle, which dares to do right in the 
face of scorn, which puts to hazard reputation, rank, 
the prospects of advancement, the sympathy of 
friends, the admiration of the world, rather than 
violate a conviction of duty. It is the courage of 
benevolence and piety, which counts not life dear in 
withstanding error, superstition, vice, oppression, 
injustice, and the mightiest foes of human improve¬ 
ment and happiness. It is moral energy, that force 
of will in adopting duty, over which menace and 
suffering have no power. It it the courage of a 
soul, which reverences itself too much to be greatly 
moved about what befals the body; which thirsts 
so intensely for a pure inward life, that it can yield 
up the animal life without fear; in which the idea 
of Moral, Spiritual, Celestial Good has been un¬ 
folded so brightly as to obscure all worldly interests; 
which aspires after immortality and therefore heeds 
little the pains or pleasures of a day; which has so 
concentered its whole power and life in the love of 
Godlike virtue, that it even finds a joy in the perils 
and sufferings, by which its loyalty to God and vir- 


17 


tue may be approved. This courage may be called 
the perfection of humanity, for it is the exercise, re¬ 
sult, and expression of the highest attributes of our 
nature. Need I tell you, that this courage has 
hardly any thing in common with what generally 
bears the name, and has been lauded by the crowd 
to the skies ? Can any man, not wholly blinded to 
moral distinctions, compare or confound with this 
divine energy, the bravery, derived from constitu¬ 
tion, nourished by ambition, and blazing out in re¬ 
sentment, which forms the glory of military men 
and of men of the world ? The courage of military 
and ordinary life, instead of resting on high and un¬ 
changeable principles, finds its chief motive in the 
opinions of the world, and its chief reward in vulgar 
praise. Superior to bodily pain, it crouches before 
censure, and dares not face the scorn which faith¬ 
fulness to God and unpopular duty must often incur. 
It wears the appearance of energy, because it con¬ 
quers one strong passion, fear; but the other pas¬ 
sions it leaves unmastered, and thus differs essen¬ 
tially from moral strength or greatness, which con¬ 
sists in subjecting all appetites and desires to a pure 
and high standard of rectitude. Brilliant courage, 
as it is called, so far from being a principle of uni¬ 
versal self-control, is often joined with degrading 
pleasures, with a lawless spirit, with general licentious¬ 
ness of manners, with a hardihood which defies God 
as well as man, and which, not satisfied with scorning 
death, contemns the judgment that is to follow. So 
wanting in moral worth is the bravery, which has so 

long been praised, sung, courted, adored. It is 

3 


18 


time that it should be understood. It is time that 
the old, barbarous, indiscriminate worship of mere 
courage should give place to a wise moral judgment. 
This fanaticism has done much to rob Christianity 
of its due honor. Men, who give their sympathies 
and homage to the fiery and destructive valor of the 
soldier, will see little attraction in the mild and 
peaceful spirit of Jesus. His unconquerable forbear¬ 
ance, the most genuine and touching expression of 
his divine philanthropy, may even seem to them a 
weakness. We read of those who, surrounding the 
cross, derided the meek sufferer. They did it in 
their ignorance. More guilty, more insensible are 
those, who, living under the light of Christianity, 
and yielding it their assent, do not see in that cross 
a glory which pours contempt on the warrior. Will 
this delusion never cease? Will men never learn 
to reverence disinterested love ? Shall the desola¬ 
tions and woes of ages bear their testimony in 
vain against the false glory which has so long 
dazzled the world? Shall Christ, shall moral per¬ 
fection, shall the spirit of Heaven, shall God mani¬ 
fest in his Son, be forever insulted by the worship 
paid to the spirit of savage hordes ? Shall the cross, 
ostentatiously worn on the breast, never become to 
the heart a touching emblem and teacher of all-suf¬ 
fering love ?-1 do not ask these questions in des¬ 

pair. Whilst we lament the limited triumphs of 
Christianity over false notions of honor, we see and 
ought to recognize its progress. War is not now 
the only or chief path to glory. The greatest 
names are not now written in blood. The purest 



19 


fame is the meed of genius, philosophy, philanthro¬ 
py and piety, devoting themselves to the best inter¬ 
ests of humanity. The passion for military glory 
is no longer, as once, able of itself to precipitate 
nations into war. In all this let us rejoice. 

In the preceding remarks, I aimed to show that 
the glory awarded to military prowess and success 
is unfounded, to show the deceitfulness of the glare 
which seduces many into the admiration of war. I 
proceed to another topic, which is necessary to give 
us a full understanding of the pernicious influence 
exerted by the idea of honor in exciting nations to 
hostility. There are many persons, who have little 
admiration of warlike achievements and are gen¬ 
erally inclined to peace, but who still imagine that 
the honor of a nation consists peculiarly in quickness 
to feel and repel injury, and who consequently, when 
their country has been wronged, are too prone to 
rush into war. Perhaps its interests have been 
slightly touched. Perhaps its well-being imperious¬ 
ly demands continued peace. Still its honor is 
said to call for reparation, and no sacrifice is thought 
too costly to satisfy the claim.—That national honor 
should be dear and guarded with jealous care, no 
man will deny; but in proportion as we exalt it, we 
should be anxious to know precisely what it means, 
lest we set up for our worship a false, unjust, merci¬ 
less Deity, and instead of glory shall reap shame. 
I ask then, in what does the honor of a nation con¬ 
sist ? What are its chief elements or constituents ? 
The common views of it are narrow and low. 


20 


Every people should study it; and in proportion as 
we understand it, we shall learn that it has no ten¬ 
dency to precipitate nations into war. What, I ask 
again, is this national honor, from which no sacrifice 
must be withheld ? 

The first element of a nation’s honor is undoubt¬ 
edly Justice. A people, to deserve respect, must 
lay down the maxim, as the foundation of its inter¬ 
course with other communities, that justice, a strict 
regard to the rights of other states, shall take rank 
of its interests. A nation, without reverence 
for right, can never plead in defence of a war, that 
this is needed to maintain its honor; for it has no 
honor to maintain. It bears a brand of infamy, 
which oceans of human blood cannot wash away. 
With these views, we cannot be too much shocked 
by the language of a chief magistrate recently ad¬ 
dressed to a legislative body in this country. “No 
“ community of men” (he says) “in any age or na- 
“tion, under any dispensation, political or religious, 
“ has been governed by justice in its negotiations or 
“conflicts with other states. It is not justice and 
“magnanimity, but interest and ambition dignified 
“ under the name of state policy, that has governed 
“ and ever will govern masses of men acting as po- 
“ litical communities. Individuals may be actuated 
“by a sense ot justice; but what citizen in any 
“ country would venture to contend for justice to a 
“ foreign and rival community in opposition to the 
“ prevailing policy of his state, without forfeiting the 
“character of a patriot.” Now if this be true of 
our country, and to our own country it was applied, 


then I say, we have no honor to fight for. A people, 
systematically sacrificing justice to its interests, is 
essentially a band of robbers, and receives but the 
just punishment of its profligacy in the assaults of 
other nations. But it is not true that nations are 
so dead to moral principles. The voice of justice 
is not always drowned by the importunities of inter¬ 
est; nor ought we, as citizens, to acquiesce in an in¬ 
jurious act, on the part of our rulers, towards other 
states, as if it were a matter of course, a necessary 
working of human selfishness. It ought to be 
reprobated as indignantly as the wrongs of private 
men. A people strictly just has an honor indepen¬ 
dent of opinion, and to which opinion must pay 
homage. Its glory is purer and more enduring than 
that of a thousand victories. Let not him, who pre¬ 
fers for his country the renown of military spirit and 
success to that of justice, talk of his zeal for its 
honor. He does not know the meaning of the word. 
He belongs to a barbarous age, and desires for his 
country no higher praise than has been gained by 
many a savage horde. 

The next great element of a nation’s honor is a 
spirit of Philanthropy. A people ought to regard 
itself as a member of the human family, and as bound 
to bear part in the work of human improvement 
and happiness. The obligation of benevolence, 
belonging to men as individuals, belongs to them in 
their associated capacities. We have indeed no 
right to form an association of whatever kind, 
which severs us from the human race. I care 
not, though men of loose principles scoff at the 


22 


idea of a nation respecting the claims of humanity. 
Duty is eternal, and too high for human mockery ; 
and this duty in particular, so far from being a dream, 
has been reduced to practice. Our own country, in 
framing its first treaties, proposed to insert an article 
prohibiting privateering ; and this it did in the spirit 
of humanity, to diminish the crimes and miseries of 
war. England from philanthropy abolished the slave 
trade and slavery. No nation stands alone; and each 
is bound to consecrate its influence to the promotion 
of equitable, pacific and beneficent relations among 
all countries, and to the diffusion of more liberal 
principles of intercourse and national law. This 
country is entrusted by God with a mission for hu¬ 
manity. Its office is to commend to all nations free 
institutions as the sources of public prosperity and 
personal dignity, and I trust we desire to earn the 
thanks and honor of nations by fidelity to our trust. 
A people, reckless of the interests of the world, and 

profligately selfish in its policy, incurs far deeper 

/ 

disgrace than by submission to wrongs; and when¬ 
ever it is precipitated into war by its cupidity, its 
very victories become monuments of its guilt, and 
deserve the execration of present and coming times. 

I now come to another essential element of a na¬ 
tion’s honor, and that is, the existence of Institutions 
which tend and are designed to elevate all classes of 
its citizens. As it is the improved character of a 
people which alone gives it an honorable place in the 
world, its dignity is to be measured chiefly by the 
extent and efficiency of its provisions and establish¬ 
ments for national improvement, for spreading edu- 


23 


cation far and wide, for purifying morals and refining 
manners, for enlightening the ignorant and succour¬ 
ing the miserable, for building up intellectual and 
moral power and breathing the spirit of true religion. 
The degree of aid given to the individual in every 
condition for unfolding his best powers, determines the 
rank of a nation. Mere wealth adds nothing to a peo¬ 
ple’s glory. It is the nation’s soul which constitutes 
its greatness. Nor is it enough for a country to pos¬ 
sess a select class of educated, cultivated men; for 
the nation consists of the many not the few; and 
where the mass are sunk in ignorance and sensuali¬ 
ty, there you see a degraded community, even though 
an aristocracy of science be lodged in its bosom. It 
is the moral and intellectual progress of the people , 
to which the patriot should devote himself as the 
only dignity and safeguard of the state. How need¬ 
ed this truth ! In all ages, nations have imagined, 
that they were glorifying themselves by triumphing 
over foreign foes, whilst at home they have been de¬ 
nied every ennobling institution, have been trodden 
under foot by tyranny, defrauded of the most sacred 
rights of humanity, enslaved by superstition, buried 
in ignorance, and cut off from all the means of rising 
to the dignity of men. They have thought that they 
were exalting themselves, in fighting for the very 
despots who ground them in the dust. Such has 
been the common notion of national honor; nor is it 
yet effaced. How many among ourselves are un¬ 
able to stifle their zeal for our honor as a people, 
who never spent a thought on the institutions and 
improvements which ennoble a community, and 


24 


whose character and examples degrade and taint 
their country, as far as their influence extends. 

I have now given you the chief elements of na¬ 
tional honor; and a people cherishing these can 
hardly be compelled to resort to war. I shall be told 
however, that an enlightened and just people, though 
less exposed to hostilities, may still be wronged, in¬ 
sulted, and endangered; and I shall be asked, if in 
such a case its honor do not require it to repel in¬ 
jury, if submission be not disgrace ? I answer, that a . 
nation, which submits to wrong from timidity or a 
sordid love of ease or gain, forfeits its claim to res¬ 
pect A faint-hearted, self indulgent people, cower¬ 
ing under menace, shrinking from peril, and willing 
to buy repose by tribute or servile concession, de¬ 
serves the chains which it cannot escape. But to 
bear much and long from a principle of humanity, 
from reverence for the law of love, is noble; and 
nothing but moral blindness and degradation induce 
men to see higher glory in impatience of injury and 
quickness to resent. 

Still I may be asked, whether a people, however 
forbearing, may not sometimes owe it to its own dig¬ 
nity and safety to engage in war ? I answer, yes. 
When the spirit of justice, humanity and forbear¬ 
ance, instead of spreading peace, provokes fresh out¬ 
rage, this outrage must be met and repressed by 
force. I know that many sincere Christians oppose to 
this doctrine the precept of Christ, “ Resist not evil/' 
But Christianity is wronged and its truth exposed 
to strong objections, when these and the like pre¬ 
cepts are literally construed. The whole legislation 


25 


of Christ is intended to teach us the spirit from 
which we should act, not to lay down rules for out¬ 
ward conduct. The precept, Resist not evil, if 
practised to the letter, would annihilate all govern¬ 
ment in the family and the state; for it is the great work 
of government to resist evil passions and evil deeds. 
It is indeed our duty, as Christians, to love our worst 
enemy and to desire his true good; but we are to 
love not only our enemy, but our families, friends 
and country, and to take a wise care of our own 
rights and happiness; and when we abandon to the 
violence of a wrong-doer, these fellow beings and 
these rights, commended by God to our love and 
care, we are plainly wanting in that expanded be¬ 
nevolence which Christianity demands. A nation 
then may owe it to its welfare and dignity to engage 
in war ; and its honor demands that it should meet 
the trial with invincible resolution. It ought at such 
a moment to dismiss all fear, except the fear of its 
own passions, the fear of the crimes to which the 
exasperations and sore temptations of public hostili¬ 
ties expose a state. 

I have admitted that a nation's honor may require 
its citizens to engage in war; but it requires them to 
engage in it wisely,—with a full consciousness of rec¬ 
titude,—and with unfeigned sorrow. On no other 
conditions does war comport with national dignity, and 
these deserve a moment's attention.—A people must 
engage in war wisely, for rashness is dishonorable, 
especially in so solemn and tremendous a concern. 
A nation must propose a wise end in war; and this 
remark is the more important, because the end or ob- 
l 


26 


ject, which, according to common speech, a people 
is bound by its honor to propose, is generally dis¬ 
owned by wisdom. How common it is to hear, that 
the honor of a nation requires it to seek redress of 
grievances, reparation of injuries. Now, as a gene¬ 
ral rule, war does not and cannot repair injuries. 
Instead of securing compensation for past evils, it 
almost always multiplies them. As a general rule, 
a nation loses incomparably more by war than it has 
previously lost by the wrong-doer. Suppose for ex¬ 
ample a people to have been spoiled by another state 
of “ five millions of dollars.’' To recover this by 
war, it must expend fifty or a hundred millions more, 
and will almost certainly come forth from the con¬ 
test burthened with debt. Nor is this all. It loses 
more than wealth. It loses many lives. Now life 
and property are not to be balanced against each 
other. If a nation, by slaying a single innocent man, 
could possess itself of the wealth of worlds, it 
would have no right to destroy him for that cause 
alone. A human being cannot be valued by silver 
and gold; and of consequence a nation can never be 
authorised to sacrifice or expose thousands of lives, 
for the mere recovery of property of which it has 
been spoiled. To secure compensation for the past, 
is very seldom a sufficient object for war. The true 
end is, security for the future. An injury inflicted 
by one nation on another, may manifest a lawless, 
hostile spirit, from which, if unresisted, future and 
increasing outrages are to be feared, which would 
embolden other communities in wrong-doing, and 
against which neither property, nor life, nor liberty 


27 


<4 


would be secure. To protecta state from this spirit 
of violence and unprincipled aggression, is the duty 
of rulers, and protection may be found only in war. 
Here is the legitimate occasion and the true end of 
an appeal to arms. Let me ask you to apply this 
rule of wisdom to a case, the hearings of which will 
be easily seen. Suppose then an injury to have 
been inflicted on us by a foreign nation a quarter of 
a century ago. Suppose it to have been inflicted by 
a government, which has fallen through its lawless¬ 
ness, and which can never be restored. Suppose this 
injury to have been followed, during this long period, by 
not one hostile act, and not one sign of a hostile spirit. 
Suppose a disposition to repair it to be expressed by the 
head of the new government of the injurious nation; 
and suppose farther, that our long endurance has not 
exposed us to a single insult from any other power 
since the general pacification of Europe. Under 
these circumstances, can it be pretended, with any 
show of reason, that threatened wrong, or that future 
security, requires us to bring upon ourselves and the 
other nation the horrors and miseries of war? Does 
not wisdom join with humanity in reprobating such 
a conflict ? 

I have said that the honor of a nation requires it to 
engage in a war for a wise end. I add, as a more impor¬ 
tant rule, that its dignity demands of it to engage in no 
conflict without a full consciousness of rectitude. 
It must not appeal to arms for doubtful rights. It 
must not think it enough to establish a probable 
claim. The true principle for a nation as for an in¬ 
dividual is, that it will suffer rather than do wrong. 

n . 


/ 


28 


It should prefer being injured to the hazard of 
doing injury. To secure to itself this full con¬ 
sciousness of rectitude, a nation should always de¬ 
sire to refer its disputes to an impartial umpire. It 
cannot too much distrust its own judgment in its 
own cause. That same selfish partiality, which 
blinds the individual to the claims of a rival or foe, 
and which has compelled society to substitute pub¬ 
lic and disinterested tribunals for private war, dis¬ 
qualifies nations more or less to determine their own 
rights, and should lead them to seek a more dispas¬ 
sionate decision. The great idea, which should rise 
to the mind of a country on meditating war, is Rec¬ 
titude. In declaring war, it should listen only to 
the voice of duty. To resolve on the destruction 
of our fellow creatures without a command from 
conscience, a commission from God, is to bring on 
a people a load of infamy and crime. A nation, in 
declaring war, should be lifted above its passions by 
the fearfulness and solemnity of the act. It should 
appeal with unfeigned confidence to Heaven and 
earth for its uprightness of purpose. It should go 
forth as the champion of truth and justice, as the 
minister of God, to vindicate and sustain that great 
moral and national law, without which life has no 
security, and social improvements no defence. It 
should be inspired with invincible courage, not by its 
passions, but by the dignity and holiness of its cause. 
Nothing in the whole compass of legislation is so 
solemn as a declaration of war. By nothing do a 
people incur such tremendous responsibility. Un¬ 
less justly waged, war involves a people in the guilt 


4 




29 

% 

of Murder. The state, which, without the command 
of justice and God, sends out fleets and armies to 
slaughter fellow creatures, must answer for the blood 
it sheds, as truly as the assassin for the death of his 
victim. Oh how loudly does the voice of blood cry 
to Heaven from the field of battle! Undoubtedly, 
the men, whose names have come down to us with 
the loudest shouts of ages, stand now before the 
tribunal of eternal justice condemned as Murderers; 
and the victories, which have been thought to encir¬ 
cle a nation with glory, have fixed the same brand on 
multitudes in the sight of the final and Almighty J udge. 
How essential is it to a nation's honor that it should 
engage in war with a full conviction of rectitude! 

But there is one more condition of an honorable 
war. A nation should engage in it with unfeigned 
sorrow. It should beseech the throne of grace with 
earnest supplication, that the dreadful office of de¬ 
stroying fellow beings may not be imposed on it. 
War concentrates all the varieties of human misery , 
and a nation which can inflict these without sorrow, 
contracts deeper infamy than from cowardice. It is 
essentially barbarous, and will be looked back upon 
by more enlightened and Christian ages, with the 
horror with which we recal the atrocities of savage 

tribes. Let it be remembered, that the calamities 

■\ 

of war, its slaughter, famine and desolation, instead 
of being confined to its criminal authors, fall chiefly 
on multitudes, who have had no share in provoking 
and no voice in proclaiming it; and let not a nation 
talk of its honor, which has no sympathy with these 
woes, which is steeled to the most terrible sufferings 
of humanity. 


/ 


30 


I have now spoken my friends of the sentiments 
with which war should be regarded. Is it so re¬ 
garded ? When recently the suggestion of war was 
thrown out to this people, what reception did it 
meet ? Was it viewed at once in the light, in which 
a Christian nation should immediately and most 
earnestly consider it ? Was it received as a propo¬ 
sition to slaughter thousands of our fellow creatures ? 
Did we feel as if threatened with a calamity more 
fearful than earthquakes, famine, or pestilence ? 
The blight, which might fall on our prosperity, drew 
attention; but the thought of devoting, as a people, 
our power and resources to the destruction of man¬ 
kind, of those whom a common nature, whom 
reason, conscience and Christianity command us to 
love and save, did this thrill us with horror ? Did 
the solemn enquiry break forth through our land, 
Is the dreadful necessity indeed laid upon us to send 
abroad death and woe ? No. There was little 
manifestation of the sensibility, with which men and 
Christians should look such an evil in the face. As 
a people, we are still seared and blinded to the 
crimes and miseries of war. The principles of 
honor, to which the barbarism and infatuation of 
dark ages gave birth, prevail among us. The gener¬ 
ous, merciful spirit of our religion is little under¬ 
stood. The Law of Love, preached from the cross 
and written in the blood of the Saviour, is trampled 
on by public men. The true dignity of man, which 
consists in breathing and cherishing God’s spirit of 
justice and philanthropy towards every human being, 
is counted folly, in comparison with that spirit of 


31 


vindictiveness and self-aggrandizement, which turns 
our earth into an image of the abodes of the damned. 
How long will the friends of humanity, of religion, of 
Christ, silently, passively, uncomplainingly, suffer the 
men of this world, the ambitious, vindictive and selfish, 
to array them against their brethren in conflicts 
which they condemn and abhor ? Shall not truth, 
humanity, and the mild and holy spirit of Christianity 
find a voice, to rebuke and awe the wickedness which 
precipitates nations into war, and to startle and 
awaken nations to their fearful responsibility in 
taking arms against the children of their Father in 
Heaven. Prince of peace! Saviour of men! Speak 
in thine own voice of love, power and fearful warn¬ 
ing ; and redeem the world, for which thou hast died, 
from lawless and cruel passions, from the spirit of 
rapine and murder, from the Powers of Darkness 
and Hell! 







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